


Here Is the Repeated Image of the Lover Destroyed

by wibblyR



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:11:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2240193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibblyR/pseuds/wibblyR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silva kidnaps Q and Bond to torture them in his own horrific way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Is the Repeated Image of the Lover Destroyed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Tania](http://octopifer.tumblr.com) for christmas 2012  
> Title from _Litany in Which Certain Things are Crossed Out_ by Richard Siken

James woke up stinking of sweat and blood, his entire body throbbing with pain as if a car had run him over. He could handle pain. A shiver brushed the bare skin of his torso and tickled the trail of soft hair under his navel, telling him he was shirtless. He could handle cold. He let his eyes rest behind his eyelids before opening them and scanning his environment. He froze: it was not the first time he’d been tied to a chair in this room. He felt an icy metal bite on his left wrist and when he shook it he heard the rattle of the handcuffs that chained him to the left rung of the chair. Puzzled, he passed his free hand on his face and in his hair, and as he noticed the blood stains on his palm, he heard, spoken in a soft and flat tone, “James.”

He turned his head so fast that his neck cracked. On a couch he didn’t remember was there the last time he was here, both of his hands handcuffed above his head to a pipe, was lying a Q as shirtless as him. There was a cut on the bridge of his nose, the left side of his face was a big bruise, his hair was matted on his forehead by a mix of sweat and dried blood and several spots on his chest and ribs were blue-ish. He was looking at him with hazy eyes, blinking rapidly- where were his glasses ? James made a sign with his finger to shush him and show him that he could free himself more easily. He started poking at the handcuff when a voice like honey dripped in his neck, raising the hair on his nape.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Silva walked from behind him to the couch. He pressed a purple spot on Q’s collarbone, wich made Q wince and James’ jaw clench. “I’m sorry,” Silva said in a fake apologetic tone, “my men were a little…rough”. He had turned his gaze to a point behind James. The latter followed it and saw two of Silva’s mooks, armed, one aiming his gun at James’ head, the other at Q’s.

“Don’t worry,” said Silva, smiling as if he were recalling a pleasant memory only known of him, “they’ve seen much worse.” Worse than what ? burned James’ tongue; but he held it, because he knew the answer.

“You see,” Silva continued, “I would have get rid of you -since now you’re only getting in my way-, but I’ve recently discovered…” his eyes passed briefly on Q “ something that gave me idea.”

James shifted, ever so slightly, but Silva noticed it.

“Don’t fret, you won’t have to live with the memory of this for long. Even less if you try something…I won’t, hm, hesitate to put you down. Now close your eyes.”

He turned his back on him to give his attention to Q, but shot a glance past his own shoulder to see him still glaring.

“Close your eyes”, he repeated.

When James still didn’t obey, he pulled his body out of its position over Q with the movement of a swimmer pulling themselves out of the water and walked slowly toward James until he was looming over him. He caressed James’ adam’s apple with a finger, a reminiscent gesture as enjoyable as a slap in the face, and said, as if he were persuading a petulant child into cooperating :

“Close them, or I tape your eyelids shut.”

He was well capable of it. The intensity in James’ blue eyes increased and he finally closed those. He heard light footsteps and the scraping of clothes, and Q’s gasps and the noise of his handcuffs clattering against the pipe, and James imagined him struggling to get his body away from Silva’s hands. Hands that he recognized for being suddenly on his cheeks and his eyes flew open, meeting Silva’s face at mere inches from his own. He risked a glance a his right and saw Q completely naked, his cock limp against his thigh, his skin flushed by the fresh air, his chest rising with heavy intakes of breath, his eyes staring furiously at the back of Silva’s head.

“What I’m about to do…I want you to get off on it. That’s why i kept your rigt hand free, so you could…do it as you please.” Silva walked over to Q and suddenly his hands were encircling Q’s throat, squeezing, as he said, “Actually, if you don’t touch yourself, I will give a sign to this guy”-he pointed with his chin to the man who was aiming his gun at Q-“so that he puts a bullet through this boy’s skull. I might even just strangle him.” He squeezed harder. Q went stiff and opened his mouth, as air didn’t even get past his throat.

“After all, I’ll be in an ideal position to do so.” His hands let go of their grip and moved to hover over Q’s midriff, wich James’ saw twitch, as if Q’s insides were recoiling from the touch. The fingers crept lower, pulling lightly at the pubic hair, and then they were grabbing the inner thigh, grazing the balls and pulling the left leg up.

“I don’t think he needs preparation anymore by now. Does he, Mr. Bond ?”

James weighed the chances that he really was asking him his opinion. He saw Q’s eyes fixed on him, warning him silently not to try anything. Of course Q would have found a way to get MI-6 agents to come to their rescue, but how long would it take them to get here ?

“Yes, he does.” His own voice sounded muffled to his ears.

“Well then.” Silva kissed Q’s ankle and put his leg down. He then went to retrieve something on a coat hanger: a black anorak that James recognized instantly.

“I’m sorry for the state of the couch”, Silva said while slipping the coat between Q’s body and the ragged couch, “I found it in the ruins.”

He then started to unbuckle his belt, the fabric of his trousers loosening around his arse. The vivid image of him forcing his cock past the barrier of Q’s lips -twisted in a grimace- invaded James’ mind, but the quick movements of Silva’s arm and the slick wet sounds sent a brief wave of relief through him. Thank god, he thought. Q was shaking uncontrollably, unable, it seemed, to look away from Silva’s pulsing member (Q’s was half-hard, James noticed). Silva hopped on one end of the couch, manhandling Q to put his arse in his lap, and shoved two of his fingers into Q’s mouth, who promptly bit them. Silva raised an eyebrow and drew them out.

“As you want”, he smirked.

He put those two fingers into Q’s arsehole. Q winced and gritted his teeth, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. James couldn’t see, but he sensed by Q’s writhing that he was moving the fingers- maybe adding one ? He seemed to put them out, as Q’s tensed muscles relaxed at once and Q himself started breathing soundly. Then, so quickly he didn’t have time to try to prevent it, Silva positioned the head of his cock at the right angle and entered Q all at once, too fast, much too fast.

Q screamed.

James flinched.

Nobody moved for a moment. Q had closed his eyes tightly, tears running to his ears, but when he opened them, he was looking directly at James, who held his gaze even though his own eyes were stinging. The blue in them wavered before turning into ice, his jaw set, his lips a thin bitter line. He turned his gaze to Silva, who was looking pointedly at James’ crotch. James reluctantly slid his hand to his groin, unbuttoned his trousers, pulled his cock out of his pants and started pumping it at a fast pace under the appreciative eye of Silva, who, with a satisfied smirk, turned and thrust agonizingly slowly into Q. Q was bracing himself; James saw his muscles knotted, the glow of the sweat on his skin, his rapid breathing, his foggy eyes either tightly shut or hanging onto James’.

Silva suddenly slammed his way to Q’s prostate.

“Ah !” Q let out in a cry. He immediately bit his lip, pressing his scarlet mouth into a thin line, but another low whimper escaped the depths of his throat. The red blotches on his skin where Silva had grabbed him matched the feverish blush on his cheeks. Silva’s hands were all over Q’s body; on his buttcheeks, leaving handprints that turned white, holding his waist, caressing his torso and the thin skin on his ribs, and they slowly made their way to the connection between the neck and the shoulders, thumbs digging in his throat. Q made a choked noise, gasping for air and helplessly scraping his fingers against the pipe, as Silva was strangling him while circling his hips, grinding against his arse and half-humming, half-moaning, lips sealed.

James felt a pang of pain in his left wrist; he hadn’t realized he’d been straining against his handcuff. He settled and jerked himself off forcefully, cursing purposefully, hoping to gain time, to pry Silva’s hands away from Q’s throat. It did get Silva’s attention: he grinned at him before turning away and pounding with a newly-found enthusiasm. James heard Q utter a weak “Fuck!” under his breath more than he saw it, even though he was staring straight at him, not letting his eyes wander anywhere else, recalling with all his willpower a memory of a night, any night he’d made love to Q; and he tried to imagine himself in Silva’s place, taking care of this wonderful boy: the curses he said in the crook of his neck where he thought he couldn’t hear him, the half-moons his nails carved into his back, his dangly knees poking him when he was too lost in the sex haze to really care, the caught off guard expression on his face when James had told him he loved him, still balls deep inside him. The sharp emotion he had felt when Q had wrapped himself around him, kissing his eyelids, his nose, his jaw, and told him he loved him too. This sent him over the edge: James came then and there. The hearing of a groan and a hoarse whimper brought him back down to earth to see both Silva’s and Q’s gaze turn away from him and the mess he’d made. Silva held Q’s erection in his left fist, his thumb pressing just below the head. Q, who had been struggling against his manacles, his wrists bleeding around the restraints, cried out, his back arching and arms shaking as his come spilled itself on his own stomach. James, shivering, couldn’t look away. He wiped his hand on his leg distractedly and observed Silva’s thrusts get more frantic and his mouth wandering on Q’s jaw and neck, sucking the skin stretched over his adam’s apple.

“J-James…I can’t-“ muttered Q incoherently. Spit had dribbled onto his chin and Silva licked it away in a flick of pink tongue.

He was literally fucking Q senseless, James thought bitterly. He wished he could not look, not listen, but he had to. He had to witness this for Q; he had to hold on for him, even though he seemed already lost. Silva grunted, his arms around Q’s legs to hold them against his chest and around his shoulders, and James saw his fingers gripping Q’s knees so hard his knuckles were white, and the movement of his hips slowing…And then, all at once, several things happened.

Silva came, throwing his head back, the disgustingly blissful expression on his face sealing itself forever in James’ brain; James caught a glimpse of sperm and blood dripping onto the coat; and the double doors flew open and two MI-6 agents walked in and, with two resounding bangs of their guns, made Silva’s men fall dead to the floor.

 

***

 

James got up lazily, carefully putting Q’s hand that he had on his chest at Q’s side. He pushed Q’s dark locks from his forehead and kissed it before walking to the cupboard, where Q always kept some of his clothes for him to put on after a night at his flat. His eyes didn’t linger on Q’s bruises; he knew they were fading away, for he stared at them every night he slept here, when Q’s breath was already slow in slumber. While he took a white shirt, he noticed a box in the back of the wardrobe. He crouched and opened it. His eyes widened as he unfolded what was inside : the anorak, with dried fluids upon a particular spot…


End file.
